Monday, June 28, 2010

You know I'd never lie to you darling. So you just have to believe me when I tell you how essential this album is. You just gotta believe me. I don't know what I would do if you didn't. And I promise, from now on I won't nag you when you're out late with the boys. And I won't talk on the phone with Jenny for hours. I won't even ask you to come to mother's with me any more since I know you never liked her cooking all that much. Just, please, say that you believe me. Please.

Update. I'm not sure who complained about this post, but for some reason it was taken down. I assume it's because someone has a problem with the link. That's fine. There was no notice or e-mail or anything however. If this was a case of someone complaining for some other reason, then s/he may go fuck his/her self with a broken bottle. If you don't like what I write/post then fuck off. I made this shit heap for my friends and I'm not looking to make any new ones.

Oh, and if this was because someone had an issue with downloading, the rest assured fuck-o, 3 people downloaded it so far. You're not losing millions.

2nd update. Even though the link was removed some asshead still pulled this post. Hey, fucker there's nothing here anymore. Stop fucking with my site and go back to sticking that plunger in your ass. Is it that you can't stand that I have the cover posted? I don't know what the concern is anymore.

My lazy side is showing, and it's telling me that I should just write: sounds like the Birthday Party, don't be stupid just get this. And it's really a pretty fair thing to say. But there's a different element incorporated here. maybe a more lo-fi British D.I.Y. soundsthat you were more likely to hear on Fuck Off Records or something. So while they share a certain sound with their more well known Australian mates, there's something about this records that has me coming back to it over the years. I think maybe they didn't get as big of a following because they lacked Tracy Pew's awesome mesh shirts and 'tache combo. It's just a thought.

I'm guessing you can imagine the difficulty of finding this rare NWW list gem. It's not only that this odd 7" of experimental Finnish music didn't get much distribution when it was released (circa 1968), but I think we all know what's going to turn up when you do a google search for this title. So sorry to let some of you dudes down, but look elsewhere for your sploodge pics. This is maybe a little less experimental that their classic Shh! album, but I like it more. At times it has a tribal, almost Vibracatherdal Orchestra-esque feel, but that too isn't quite on it. Well, decide for yourself.

I think I can argue that Yoshida is the best living drumming. I think I can win that argument. I don't want to fight you or anything, unless, that is you happen to be that stupid fake punk with that ridiculous goatee (instantly lame) and terrible haircut that works down at pleasant street. If that is you then I want to hit you in the mouth with a hammer since you are a dumb motherfucker. Time to grow up you clown. But if you are not that cretin, then I think the album title suggests what you are bound to hear on this disk.

It's been a few days since I last posted because all of my time now is devoted to viewing the entire criterion collection. I'm half way through and there really hasn't been anything yet that I really hate. Although I'm not sure if I can make it through Armageddon and the Rock (Fuck you Michael Bay and your bullshit movies). But in the mean time, here's a couple of quick posts since I'm sure there's several people just dying to read what I write. It's been some time since I posted anything from the great country of New Zealand. So here's some more for you. It's not a super rarity, but a pretty damned good & underrated slice of kiwi pop action. I guess this is for Rich, but I'm sure he already has it.

I haven't seen this film so I can't comment on that. And I have to admit, I was mighty skeptical when Aquarius described this as some proto-Radioheadish electro. I never really liked Jarre, and I certainly do not like Radiohead, but I thought I'd give this a chance. Glad I did since this really is a fantastic soundtrack. I guess it proves that so many biases are unfounded and only provide inessential restrictions. I guess that type of understanding only comes by being proven wrong too many times. But I don't think I'll be playing Radiohead anytime soon.

Why not another oddball jazz album? Anytime someone is interesting in infusing an established genre of music with novel instrumentation, I'm all ears. Normally, this leads to some pretty disappointing albums as dilettantism and hubris demonstrate that you can't just swap instruments and be a virtuoso. But bag pipes in jazz was too intriguing to pass up. Aside from Yoshi Wada, I try to avoid the shrill horribleness of this inflated sack of ear torture. Somehow it works here though. There used to be this attention seeking ball bag that would don all the traditional garb and blast his annoyance out for everyone driving down this main thoroughfare by my old house. I wonder if he ever really though people would appreciate that nonsense. As far as I know, the only reaction he elicited was pure hatred. But maybe that was the point. I mean, the bag pipes are pretty fucking annoying. Not here though.

I have well over 70 Sun Ra albums and it seems like there's still so much that I need. But that's how I feel about this guy. And that shows my obsessive collecting side. While it's doubtful that I'll ever complete this collection, unless some kind soul wants to donate copious funds toward my pursuits, I feel like it's a decent start. Of that massive pile of music, I really have no idea where to begin when selecting just one. I suppose I could have done a mix of sorts, but really, who wants that. Albums only I say. So here's a rather odd one is a severely demented catalog. Strange indeed. Even a squeaky door becomes a featured instrument on the closing track.

Aaron tells me I need to post some electronic music. So this one is for him. Aaron also tells me that I should write more about my moronic neighbors. They're been keeping things under wraps lately, but there was one story that was unusual. Their little cry baby son (he never stops crying) always wants to talk to me. I try to indulge him for a while, but I just don't like the kid. Anyways, one day he made this weird chalk drawing for me and told me it was my mail truck. A mail truck of my dreams. I still can't figure out whether he meant that I aspire to own such a truck, or that if he was able to telepathically enter my dreams (like Alex) and saw this mail truck, or that it is an omen and I shall dream of this truck eventually. But he was pretty committed to this subject and he still likes to mention it even though the rain has washed it away long ago. If I do dream of this mail truck I'm sure this will soundtrack my deliveries.

Friday, June 18, 2010

I figure that since I posted Mick's little electronic experiment, then this might as well be posted. It's just Keef fucking around with some early modular synth. Letting it drone out and then fucking with the patches. That type of stuff. But watch the video here just to see how cool this motherfucker was (pre-pirate era). Or I guess you can just look at the above photo.

I'm not sure if this was all this band released. In I know very little about them at all. I believe they were from San Franciso. I also think this was a self released cassette that was later reissued by tUMULt. Aside from that, I don't know shit about this band, barring that they create some really soul stirring, emotive, country rock. I doubt you'll be grinning after this, but you will at least feel just slightly more human. Which means something in times like this. Right, Mr. Android? Bonus points for name borrowed from Joni Mitchell.

If you're looking for some of that commercial pop that a couple of precocious limeys are churning out at the moment, look away. This ain't that cute little combo. No, this is the snarling beast forged from the remains of the almighty Electric Eels. These forgotten gems are missing, yet essential, pieces in the complex Cleveland punk puzzle. And what a glorious puzzle that was. If you love the Eels (how can you not) then there's no reason to sleep on these, unless you already have them I suppose. And no laughing at my horrible layout. I really don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing. I'm lucky that I can barely type.

The first three releases by a band who continues to impress. I think these are now compiled on one handy cd for those of you who were sleeping when the original vinyl was released. And buddy, you missed out. Permission has some pretty raging, yet novel sounding, hardcore jams. Flip it over and find that they can get all Sonic Youth distorto pop too. Then we've got This is a Forest. I think one of their dad's plays sax on this, and it's about as weird as that sounds. The shit is almost Pink Floyd territory here. Permission brings back the aggression, but now it's cribbed in some concept about cults and people getting buried in a backyard or something. I think they have one full album (Philestine--also good; find it elsewhere). And to think I had given up on punk so many years back. What was the hell was I thinking?

I know, lately things have been getting a little heavy on the old psych records. But, if there's something readers out there want, then send me a note or something. Otherwise, too bad. So here's more old psych for you. Definitely in the vein of United States of America or White Lightning, 5o ft Hose also employ an arsenal of weird homemade electronics. The west-coast, Airplane like vibe gets slathered in buzzes and plinks, making this a deliciously mind bending treat for your earholes.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

The third installment in the ongoing series to bring you the entire Rudi P catalog. I know I've been meting these out pretty sparingly, but who doesn't like a good tease? This ep takes on maybe a little bit more metallic tone than what you'd come to expect from this band. But fuck, everything they've made is worth owning, so don't start getting too nit-picky (is that how that word is spelled?). One more classic from such a classic band. And is that a fucking narwhal on the cover?

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

After those last few religious/Jesus related posts, this seems so soothing to the ears. Before anyone thinks that after the drugs faded everyone turned to Jesus, remember that there was still some dark psych classics that never sheepishly genuflected to the lame trend of god rock. And thank Satan for that.

I'm sure everyone knows that the Spooky Tooth album just posted was not the first psych mass. I'm not certain, but I think this might be it though. While played by some of the Electric Prunes, this is really the work of the beloved by crate digger producer, David Axelrod. One track was even featured in Easy Rider. But that movie is overrated and I haven't seen it since Junior High. Too bad about Dennis Hopper though.

Attention weirdos, if you don't have this, then you're not as weird as you think. This is one of those lovely dollar finds (at a record show nonetheless). Man, I definitely got a lot for that buck. And it's now yours for free. If you're familiar with the hard rock choogle of Spooky Tooth (love that sound too), you might not expect them to team up with French electro wizard Pierre Henry. That itself is pretty unusual. But then have them make "an electronic mass," and you're definitely heading into the tin foil suit/pet albatross levels of lunacy. While I can't abide by the religious fervor, I can certainly support the ambition. Still prefer the electronic satanic masses though.

This jazz gypsy is definitely up there in the list of ultimate guitar masters. Few people can sustain such clean, beautiful melodies, then switch to some odd space psych, to near freak outs all within the cover of a cheesey pop song. I think The Sorcerer might be my favorite of his albums, mostly due to the inclusion of the interstellar masterpiece, Space, but this album is where Szabo was really starting to expand his ear and stretch it out (sitar all over the place). And there's a cover of Paint it black to boot.

Twink (aka John Adler) was laying down the beat on some of the best British psych discs of all time. The Pretty Things, Pink Fairies, Stars (w/Syd Barrett). All classics. Put this one in the classics list too. Members of the Deviants and all the other Brit underground luminaries are in attendance. With Victor Unit & Paul Rudolph on board, you know there's some serious psych guitar here. All this contributes to the general weirdness that you'd come to expect from this psychedelic pioneer. Even his out takes & home recordings (released sometime back) are all worth hearing.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

I don't know how popular nuggets style 60s rock was in German when these guys released their debut (1981, I think). I'm sure V.U. the Monks, and rock that G.I.s brought over still had some resonance. So it doesn't seem all that surprising that these guys would take up that sound, slow it down, drug it out, and fuck it with some buzzy electronics. Finally, these guys are getting some hype. Much to late, as it typically the case.

I love the Action and their mod-pop tunes. Their transformation into the Deadish Mighty Baby was even better. Afterwards, I think their interest started to move south toward Morocco as more Middle Eastern sounds crept into their music and the beards continued to grow. And if you're a fan of exotic/non western instruments played by westerners, than this should be on your list.

I think it's pretty easy to class Rikk Agnew as in the top tier of all time cool as hell California punks. Playing in Social Distortion, the Adolescents, Christian Death, and D.I. is pretty god damned impressive. Most, I'm sure, would rest on their laurels have played with just one of these groups. But this, as the title implies, is Rikk at his most onanistic. Playing all instruments himself, Agnew forgoes the sideman role he has often filled in the past and really created a classic. Still a supremely under appreciated gem.

I'd say most of the esp-disk catalog is pretty damned untouchable when it comes to consistently wigged out sonic mind fucks. And spanning out jazz, strummy folk, psych lunacy, etc, it's a pretty broad spectrum that they covered. Of all the albums they released, this always received high marks in my book. Lotsa clatter and stompin' fucked blues grass sounds. These dudes were certainly weird. Weird enough that even Sam Shepard joined their ranks for this album. And really, this album reminds me of a time when records had some amazing album covers. With all the photoshop nonsense I keep seeing, it's easy to forget the cover as a real artform. This wasn't made on some fucking computer.

I know how vampires are the big trendy thing now. Every semester I have to read some half baked analysis on the vampire as a figure of sexual potency. And much as I love blood suckers, I have to say that barring Let the Right One In, I haven't seen a good vampire flick in quite some time. This soundtrack to Romero's classic, is the prefect blend of musique concrete, odd synth nightmares, and general avant guardiness that makes this the perfect accompaniment for this creep fest. Can't recommend this film or the music highly enough. Of course, horror movies set in Pittsburgh always score highly around these parts.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

I think sometimes my friends are confused on how a guy like me has dated some girls who are admittedly out of my league. Well, I suppose it's time to reveal my secret. It totally works. Place a live turtle under your bed and put some mint leafs in your pillow case....

Since I just mentioned this guy I figure I should cough up the goods lest there be people unfamiliar with his work. For my money this guy is up their with Cosey for one of the best guitarists Chicago ever produced. But he never really became that much of a house hold name despite playing on cuts by Curtis Mayfield, B.B. King, Dizzy Gillespie, Donny Hathaway, etc. Don't worry though, Upchurch isn't interested in some wanky shred fest. He opts for a much more melodic and smooth (at times jazzy) tone that can be real appealing. There's even a few Hendrix covers thrown in for good measure. Oh, and Charles Stepney (another Chicago god) is involved, if that means anything to you. And this cover rules too.

I know blues purist really hate this album, but you know what, I really hate blues purists. My experience is that they're typically some overly educated, whinny, white person who's more concerned with posturing that enjoying the music. So if you're of that disposition, than this ain't the album for you. Go feel guilty elsewhere. But if you want to hear when Muddy got all psychedelic then this might bend your ear. And with Phil Upchurch & Pete Cosey involved, you can imagine that the guitar is top flight. Melt your mind.

Indisputably, Jesse Hector has the best sideburns in rawk history. Go ahead and look it up and try to challenge that claim. These punk-before-punk hooligans were cracking skulls while most were donning their kaftans. So far ahead of their time they were that they sound more relevant now than ever before. I recently had the pleasure of punching in some stupid fuck's hood (the idiot didn't realize that people in the cross walk had the right of way); this music sums up those types of feelings you experience at moments like that.

No joke, one time I was in some bullshit clothing store and I heard a horrendous reggaefied version of "Another Girl, Another Planet." Ugh...it was just unbelievably bad. Imagine, one of the best odes to heroin used to hawk overpriced phony retro clothes (I wasn't in there for my own clothes). What are these people thinking? Why fuck with such a classic? Well, here's your chance to listen to the original in all of its awesomeness. And just in time for the Belmont too.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Time to meditate and try not to think about the army dude who threatened to rip my face off the other night. Oh, he also told me that he gets a hard on from killing people. Not sure if that was supposed to be a come on or what. The best thing about this neck-as-wide-as-head dingbat was his touching account of his friend who lost both leg and hand (how this occurred was rather muddled but he did seem to insinuate that it was from some type of torture). After this harrowing tale of severe trauma the one thing that really got me was when this near tears brute turned and said with a tone rife with regret, "Man, he'll never get to play playstation again." So here's some Pharoah Sanders for you.

Some time back I bought a massive stack of cdrs off of Roots of Madness leader Don Campau and at a couple of bucks a piece I felt like I robbed the guy. Out of that stack it's hard to cull just one album, but I suppose this is their most known work (which means maybe a like a thousand people) so why not go with it? They're a hard band to describe. Circa 1971 there were maybe a handful of bands that this would probably be on the same planet with. Red Krayola & Nihilist Spasm band may be the first few to come to mind. So it's weird to say the least. There's folky strum ups, poetry, piano composition, even the dreaded harmonica makes an appearance (why?). This was reissued a few years back, but it never really seemed to get the attention it deserves. Don't sleep on it again. Don't you want to hear a song called "The Old Man's Ass?"

I've been hitting the Chicago punk pipe pretty hard lately. I can't explain why. Nostalgia? Reconnecting with my roots? Who the fuck knows/cares. I am well aware that most people rate my hometown pretty low on the punk totem pole, but those people often neglect the fuzz punk awesomeness of this group and instead spend more time talking about how Vic Bondi is a prick (I don't know if he is since I never met the gent, but this is just something people seem to be interested in discussing). Well, I'll admit the city wasn't punk heaven or anything, but it was certainly weird enough to function as a petri dish breeding things of this ilk. I have to say, this super distorted guitar is fucking fantastic. The simplicity and psychosis make this an overall pretty depressive album, at least to me that is.

This is here because this band has been coming up in conversation a lot lately. I don't know why. Nor do I pretend to begrudge those who wish to speak positively of Rockford's favorite sons. I've been to Rockford many a time (I really do not know why however), and to think this was a product of that environ is quite perplexing. Anyways, here's a decent live show on their home turf. Fuck the naysayers, this shit rules.

This is certainly a record that demonstrates what we lose when we move from the physical to the virtual. If ever there was a record to be held, it could very well be this one. It's velvety soft sleeve just cries to be rubbed on your cheek like the end of a dog's ear. And some fools might laugh at the fact that I'm posting a Bee Gees record, but clearly those people are not familiar with their early psych pop brilliance. This is some high caliber orch pop that tops all those lesser heard albums obscurantists pride themselves on knowing. Hey, sometimes shit can be popular and great too. At least that's how it used to be.

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So after a pretty good run of things mediafire decided to suspend my account. This is why the site is now riddled with dead links. I do not plan on re-upping them so don't bother asking. If a link dies, so be it. However, I will gladly try to fill requests assuming I have the album. Just leave a comment or send me an e-mail. It might just take some time though. And if any readers actually want to help out and provide links to replace the dead ones that would be great.
As far as the content goes there's no logic behind the selections. These are simply albums I enjoy and figure there's other weirdos out there somewhere who might as well. Basically, the site is here for me to complain about mundane things and ridicule my lame existence.